[14.  February 18, 1867.]

But by what right is the play called Henry IV?  Practically nothing is left of the historical setting, and the spectator is at a loss to know just what the whole thing is about.  Certainly the whole emphasis is shifted, for the king, instead of being an important character is overshadowed by Prince Hal.  The Falstaff scenes, on the other hand, are left almost in their original fulness, and thus constitute a much more important part of the play than they do in the original.  The article closes with a glowing tribute to Johannes Brun as Falstaff.

Morgenbladet[15] goes into greater detail.  The reviewer seems to think that Shakespeare had some deep purpose in dividing the material into two parts—­he wished to have room to develop the character of Prince Henry.  “Accordingly, in the first part he gives us the early stages of Prince Hal’s growth, beginning with the Prince of Wales as a sort of superior rake and tracing the development of his better qualities.  In Part II we see the complete assertion of his spiritual and intellectual powers.”  The writer overlooks the fact that what Shakespeare was writing first of all—­or rather, what he was revising—­was a chronicle.  If he required more than five acts to give the history of Henry IV he could use ten and call it two plays.  If, in so doing, he gave admirable characterization, it was something inherent in his own genius, not in the materials with which he was working.

    [15.  February 17, 1867.]

The history, says the reviewer, and the Falstaff scenes are the background for the study of the Prince, each one serving a distinct purpose.  But here the history has been made meaningless and the Falstaff episodes have been put in the foreground.  He points out that balance, proportion, and perspective are all lost by this.  Yet, granting that such revolutionizing of a masterpiece is ever allowable, it must be admitted that Bjornson has done it with considerable skill.  Bjornson’s purpose is clear enough.  He knew that Johannes Brun as Falstaff would score a triumph, and this success for his theater he was determined to secure.  The same motive was back of the version which Stjernstrom put on in Stockholm, and there can be little doubt that his success suggested the idea to Bjornson.  The nature of the cutting reveals the purpose at every step.  For instance, the scene in which the Gadskill robbery is made clear, is cut entirely.  We thus lose the first glimpse of the sterner and manlier side of the royal reveller.  In fact, if Bjornson had been frank he would have called his play Falstaff—­based on certain scenes from Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Parts I and II.

Yet, though much has been lost, much of what remains is excellent.  Brun’s Falstaff almost reconciles us to the sacrifice.  Long may he live and delight us with it!  It is one of his most superb creations.  The cast as a whole is warmly praised.  It is interesting to note that at the close of the review the critic suggests that the text be revised with Hagberg’s Swedish translation at hand, for Lembcke’s Danish contains many words unusual or even unfamiliar in Norwegian.